by Shen, L. J.
There were individual, luxurious cabins speckled around the main building, but since Grams required assisted living, she was going to reside in the main property, in a room that looked very much like a five-star hotel apartment.
“I think …” She looked around us, her mouth falling open. Lord, I prayed she was coherent enough to understand what was going on, and that she didn’t despise me for making the executive decision. “I think we absolutely cannot afford this, Gracie-Mae.”
I whipped my head toward her.
Gracie-Mae?
Miraculously, I found my voice.
“We can. All we need is to run some tests. And if it turns out that you—” I stopped, taking a deep breath—“that you qualify, which both the director of this place and I think you will, you’ll be given a special grant from this foundation. I’ve already talked to them. Don’t you worry about the details, Grams.”
It would probably cost me half of what I’d been paying to Marla, who constantly worked overtime, and anyway, that was exactly why we had money put aside.
Grams glared at the place with childish awe, her wrinkly hand pressed over her heart. I wished she would say something, anything, to give me the faintest idea of what was going through her head. I knew I could no longer look after her at home. Not just for me. For her, too.
She needed to be cared for professionally.
And she needed company.
She needed to interact with people her age and to move far away from the town of Sheridan—a town haunted by memories that broke her heart and soul.
My mother.
My dead grandfather.
The fire.
And perhaps even me.
“Oh, Gracie-Mae …” She clutched the top of her dress, bowing her head down. To my surprise, tears formed on the edges of her eyes, threatening to spill over. “This is beautiful. I don’t know if I deserve all this. This is too fancy. They’ll probably think I’m a hick.”
“Grams!” I chided, feeling like we were the old us, and for the first time, realizing that we weren’t—never would be—and that it was okay, too.
“What?
“They’ll be lucky to have you.”
“Not sure they’ll survive your grandmomma, sugar, but that ain’t my problem.”
A pretty, middle-aged nurse in a baby blue uniform rushed toward us from the automatic doors, picking up our suitcases.
“Hello! Mrs. Shaw?” She smiled at Grams brightly, her chestnut ponytail swinging in perfect harmony with her sunshine approach. “My name is Nurse Aimee, and I’m here to help you settle in. We are so excited to finally meet you. Your roommate, Ethel, is waiting for you. She is quite the firecracker, but your granddaughter is telling me so are you. I’ve a feeling you’re going to get along just fine.”
Something moved over Grams’ face.
A mixture of excitement and shyness I hadn’t seen before.
I ushered her in, holding her hand. She looked around timidly, like she was unwelcome. I realized, in our town, she wasn’t. That’s what she’d come to expect from people. The condemnation of being the mother of Courtney Shaw and the grandmother of the freak who’d set her own house on fire.
This was her own chance for rebirth. To become a phoenix. To start over, spread her wings and fly.
Why had I waited this long? What was I so scared of? Why couldn’t I give her the gift of being treated the way she deserved?
Because I felt guilty. And guilt drives you to do mad things, as West proved to me.
Nurse Aimee led us to the reception area, where she entertained Grams while I went through all the paperwork with the director in the back office one more time.
Every time I glanced at Grams and Aimee through the glass window of the office, my heart was about to burst.
That was how I knew I’d done the right thing.
I spent six hours in Heartland Gardens, helping Grams settle into her new room. Her roommate, Ethel, was indeed there, for all of ten minutes, quickly greeting her hello, asking if she needed any help, and when Grams said her beautiful granddaughter had it covered, Ethel excused herself and dashed out, because she didn’t want to miss the hot yoga class.
“I’m not ashamed to say I am completely enamored with a certain gentleman.” She winked at my grandmother. Grams’ eyebrows shot up to her silver curls.
“I didn’t know people here are datin’.”
“Oh, they are, sometimes. But I’m talkin’ about the thirty-year-old fitness instructor! He’s the one we’re drooling over.”
Nurse Aimee, Grams, and Ethel all burst out laughing. I grinned to myself, folding all her clothes in her closet and arranging her toiletries on her nightstand the way she liked them.
Saying goodbye was the hardest part. I knew it was time to leave, but I didn’t want to go before I knew what her reaction would be when she was the other Grams. The one who still thought I was Courtney or the Devil’s daughter.
“Just go. It’s not going to get any easier if you stick around to see the meltdown. And the meltdown will come. They always do. Besides, right after we get those test results back, we can adjust her medicine accordingly, and her mood swings will subside,” Aimee reassured me.
I wanted to tell her Grams was taking no medicine whatsoever for her condition but ended up just nodding. She was right. I couldn’t keep Grams under wraps from the world forever.
Still, when I got back into the pickup, all I did for the first ten minutes was stare at the facility and let the guilt consume me. Grandma Savvy had raised me. She’d been the only mother I’d ever known. And now I was going to see her over the weekends, only for brief visits. I wouldn’t live with her anymore. It was the end of an era.
I reached for my glove compartment and took out something Karlie had written to me. A letter she’d asked me to open only after I was done today. I guess she wanted to make sure I’d see it through.
I removed the letter from the envelope.
Shaw,
You did the right thing. I’m proud of you. Now take off that broken flame ring. You are better than holding on to the ashes of your mother.
#PhoenixForTheWin.
—Karlie.
My eyes filled with tears. I did as she asked. Took off the ring and placed it in the envelope, resealing it. The paper between my fingertips was wet with my tears. I put it away on the passenger seat, sniffing and reaching for my phone for the first time in hours.
I swiped my finger across the screen, and my breath caught in my throat.
Twenty-five unanswered calls.
Easton Braun.
Maybe: Tess Davis.
Karlie Contreras.
Blocked Number.
There were text messages, too:
Easton Braun: It’s Easton. Tried to call you.
Easton Braun: Pls call me back.
Easton Braun: It’s an emergency. Please.
Tess Davis: Did you hear about West???
Tess Davis: Aren’t you going to do something about it?
Karlie: You need to call me when you see this.
Easton Braun: PICK UP THE GODDAMN PHONE GRACE.
Tess Davis: Let me know if you need to talk. <3
Karlie: Seriously. The world is imploding and you’re probably playing bingo with Agnes and Elmer over there, Shaw.
I deliberately hadn’t checked my phone today, because I didn’t want any interruptions, and I definitely didn’t want to know the outcome of West’s fight with Appleton.
Finally, I snapped out of my shock and decided to call Easton. I knew he was the person who was most likely to be next to West, so it made sense to call him first.
He picked up before the line even connected. So fast I was pretty sure we were calling each other at the same time.
“Hello? Easton? It’s Grace.”
“Grace!” he bellowed, sounding out of breath. I heard his footsteps squeaking on a linoleum floor. “Jesus Christ, the whole world has been looking for you.”
“Is he ok
ay?” Despite my best efforts, my voice shook.
I didn’t want to care.
Then Easton asked the one question no recipient of bad news wants to hear.
“Are you sitting down?”
West
The night before.
“Holy shit, dude. You’re forty minutes late!” Max greeted me by throwing his arms around me, like we were a couple or some shit. I pushed him out of my vision, making him stumble back and fall flat on his ass. I zigzagged my way into Sheridan Plaza, the sound of my Ducati collapsing sideways behind me thudding in my ears.
I forgot to park it properly. My bad.
There goes my precious fucking paint. Sorry, Christina.
I stumbled over my own feet, soldiering forth. The faster I could get it over with, the better. Max regained his footing and managed to catch me—barely—groaning for help. East, Reign, and Tess appeared by his side.
“Oh, wow. Finally found a West nuttier than Kanye,” Reign deadpanned. Tess cupped her mouth, shaking her head as she judged me hard.
“Ohmigod, Westie.”
“Dude. He’s trashed.” East hoisted one of my arms over his shoulder. Reign took the other side. Tess scurried behind us, a curious little mouse I wanted to throw to the lions.
“You need to cancel the fight, Max,” East pressed. “It can’t happen. He can’t even stand straight.”
“Yerrucan,” I slurred, pushing them away as I tried to make my point. East and Reign let go of me, and sure enough, I managed to stand upright.
See? No problem. Perfectly capable of …
Thwack!
It took me long seconds to realize the heat spreading across my cheek wasn’t me pissing on myself.
“I fell on maface, didn’t I?” My voice was muffled by the gravel sticking to my tongue. Since when did concrete feel so nice and cozy? It was outrageously nappable.
“Is nappable a word?” I inquired.
I heard East groan.
Max sighed. “I’m gonna go talk to Shaun. See if we can postpone it by a few hours. But we can’t cancel. They made that pretty clear, and I want both my balls intact.”
“The fight is happening,” I heard myself say as I dusted myself off, rising up to my feet slowly. I felt seasick. A reasonable side effect to polishing off an entire bottle of the cheapest whiskey I could find at the grocery store. “I’m getting into that ring and finishing this thing.”
“Are you crazy?” Tess thundered behind me.
I turned around to face her. I had a bone to pick with Miss Davis. Not only as she appeared in front of me, but I saw multiple images of her. They blurred into one another, like an accordion of cut out Tesses.
“What kind of heinous crimes have I committed in a previous life to deserve seeing six Tesses?” I pondered aloud. The need to barf in my mouth punched me in the stomach. “And to think all it took was one fucking Tess to screw things up between me and my girlfriend.” I leaned forward, tapping her nose. I missed by a few inches and poked her eye. My bad, take two.
Reign stepped between us, swatting my hand away and furrowing his brows.
“Ex-girlfriend now, and don’t dump this on Tess. It’s not her fault you kept this from Grace. Did you really think no one was going to tell her?”
“I was hoping to tell her closer to the fight. You told Tess I was holding back on Grace, and she told her because she missed my dick too much.”
My snarl came out with a burp. Extra classy.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Tess winced. “Really sorry. I never thought it would be this bad. I didn’t want to ruin things for you. Just make them … difficult.”
My phone rang in my pocket. Ignoring Tess’ apology, I fumbled to take it out. Max was pacing back and forth, talking on his phone, explaining shit to Appleton and his crew, probably.
I checked my screen.
Mother.
How drunk was I to think it might actually be Grace?
I had my chance. A few of them, if I was being honest with myself. And I blew ’em all to hell. Good news was I was finally thinking clearly. I knew what I had to do to make sure Grace would be saved.
“He looks like he’s planning something, which cannot be good, considering his current state.” Easton’s voice stabbed through Reign and Tess’ simultaneous groveling. They said they were going to get me water and something to eat. It took me a few minutes to gather myself before someone propped me against the wall, like I was a piece of furniture. Upstairs, I could hear the crowd roaring and cheering.
Full venue. Sold out tickets. The whole enchilada.
And I was unfashionably late.
A few minutes later, Max killed the call. A senior lab nerd jogged toward us with a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water.
“Here.” He passed it on to Easton, who shoved the food and the drink in my face. “Chug it down. All of it.”
“Want me to piss myself by round two?” I murmured around a stale bite. Who’d made this sandwich? It was next level bad. The bread was sour, the cheese too soft, and the ham was probably my age.
Fuck, I missed That Taco Truck’s food.
“I’m not against you soiling yourself if it means it’d stop the fight,” East gritted.
“Nothing will stop this fight,” I said flatly. “And don’t you fucking try.”
“Why is it so important to you?” Reign crouched beside me. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but you ain’t gonna win this, not in your sorry ass state. Damn, I could put you against a cheerleader right now and you’d still lose.”
“A dead cheerleader,” Max pointed out helpfully.
“I don’t lay a hand on chicks,” I murmured. Unlike that idiot Appleton.
“It’d never come to that. You’d confuse her for a cardboard box before she throws the first punch.” Reign clapped my shoulder reassuringly.
Sometime later—an hour, a week, a freaking minute, I wasn’t sure—Max clapped his hands together and announced, “Okay, the moment of truth has arrived. I can’t postpone this any longer. I’m an event organizer, not a magician.”
“You’re a class-A cunt, and you’ll be paying for tricking him into a fight he can’t back out of.” Easton bared his teeth, offering me a hand. Max visibly winced. Reluctantly, I let Easton hoist me up to my feet. I glanced at the stairway leading up to the ring, as footfalls pounded on the concrete.
“Hey.” Tess put her hand on my chest. I slapped it away. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to the person who’d made this shit snowball into a fucking storm.
“Hands off, Tess.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Look at me.” She bracketed my cheeks.
Even through my state of drunkenness—which was a goddamn lot—I could still see the regret swimming in her eyes.
“I never thought it would go down this way. I was bitter and jealous and couldn’t understand why Grace was getting every single thing I’d wished for myself. I wanted a little crisis, not a full-blown catastrophe.”
I grabbed her wrists, shoving her hands away. “Sorry my tragedy is not tailor-made for your ass.”
I turned around, about to go upstairs and get the fight over with, when my pecs collided with someone else’s.
I looked down.
Appleton.
He was sweaty and bare-chested, his face smeared with enough Vaseline to lather the Statue of Liberty.
“St. Claire. Heard you have a girlfriend and that she is into … toast.”
He oinked out a rancid laugh, showing off his crooked teeth as he pushed me. Shaun and another clown from his team stood on either side of him, cackling evilly.
Not that I expected anything better from three people with the combined IQ of twelve, but I found myself unable to resist throwing a punch square to his nose, making him tumble backwards as blood shot out of his nostrils in two thick streams.
“Dafuq!” Appleton whined, pinching the bridge of his nose. He waved a hand in my face. “He is doing it again. Getting a few punches in before the bell rings.�
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“You sent people to my workplace, asshole.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“I can prove that I can kill you.” I bared my teeth.
“All because of a chick.” He tsked, blood dribbling down his chin. “Talk about pussy-whipped.”
I was about to correct him in saying that Grace wasn’t my girl—not anymore, anyway—but held back. It was part of the reason why Grace had always had her doubts. I never owned up to our relationship. Never held her hand in public. Kissed her when everyone was watching. Showed the world how I felt about this girl.
I also knew that Kade Appleton wasn’t going to leave Grace alone. That sooner or later, he was going to get to her, because she was linked to me, and I was a sore subject for him.
Unless …
Unless I lost. Monumentally. Unless I had my ass handed to me in the ring. Unless I threw the fight. It was all clear now.
Everyone had a phoenix moment.
This one was mine.
I started for the stairs, breezing past Appleton.
“C’mon. Let’s get this shit show over with.”
He chased me, leaving a trail of scarlet drops in his wake. I stormed into the makeshift ring, pushing through the dense, rabid crowd. Appleton followed closely. Behind us, Shaun, Max, East, Reign, and Tess were trying to keep up with our pace.
I turned around to face him. “Come at me.”
I knew I wasn’t going to win.
Wasn’t going to let myself win.
I’d never thrown a fight in my life, but for Grace Shaw, I was willing to bite the bullet.
Max looked between us, uncertain. I was still far from the realm of sober, but dangerous nonetheless.
“Ready?” Max asked.
“Hell yeah.”
I zeroed in on Appleton, pretending to give a shit about what was going to happen next.
It was showtime.
I only remembered fragments of the fight.
Appleton throwing a sucker punch to my jaw, sending me flying and crashing over a pile of wooden boxes.
Pretending to try to dodge him as he directed a roundhouse kick straight to my abs.
Appleton elbowing my side. The sudden gush of pain when I realized he’d managed to fracture a rib or two.
